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The bleffed benefit, not there confin'd,
Drops to the third, who nuzzles close behind;
From tail to mouth, they feed and they carouse:
The last full fairly gives it to the House. 180

F. This filthy fimile, this beaftly line
Quite turns my ftomach-

P. So does Flatt'ry mine;
And all your courtly Civet-cats can vent,
Perfume to you, to me is Excrement.

But hear me further-Japhet, 'tis agreed, 185
Writ not, and Chartres fcarge could write or read,
In all the Courts of Pindus guiltless quite;
But Pens can forge, my Friend, that cannot write;
And must no Egg in Japhet's face be thrown,
Because the Deed he forg'd was not my
own? 199
Muft never Patriot then declaim at Gin,
Unless, good Man! he has been fairly in?
No zealous Paftor blame a failing Spouse,
Without a staring Reason on his brows?
And each Blafphemer quite escape the rod, 195
Because the infult's not on Man, but God?

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VER. 185. in the MS.

I grant it, Sir; and further, 'tis agreed,
Japhet writ not, and Chartres fcarce could read.


VER. 185. Japhet-Chartres] See the Epiftle to Lord Bathurst. P.

Afk you what Provocation I have had ?
The strong Antipathy of Good to Bad.
When Truth or Virtue an Affront endures,
Th' Affront is mine, my Friend, and should be



Mine, as a Foe profefs'd to falfe Pretence,
Who think a Coxcomb's Honour like his Sense;
Mine, as a Friend to ev'ry worthy Mind;
And mine as Man, who feel for all Mankind.
F. You're strangely proud.

P. So proud, I am no Slave:
So impudent, I own myself no Knave: 206
So odd, my Country's Ruin makes me grave.
Yes, I am proud; I must be proud to see
Men not afraid of God, afraid of me:
Safe from the Bar,.the Pulpit, and the Throne, 210
Yet touch'd and fham'd by Ridicule alone.

O facred weapon! left for Truth's defence,
Sole Dread of Folly, Vice, and Infolence!


VER. 204. And mine as Man, who feel fr all Mankind ] From Terence: "Homo fum: humani nihil a me alienum "puto."


VER. 208. Yes, I am proud, &c.] In this ironical exultation the Poet infinuates a fubject of the deepest humiliation.

VER. 211 Yet touch'd and foam'd by Ridicule alone.] The paffions are given us to awake and fupport Virtue. But they frequently betray their truft, and go over to the interefts of Vice. Ridicule, when employed in the caufe of Virtue, fhames and brings them back to their duty. Hence the ufe. and importance of Satire..

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To all but Heav'n-directed hands deny'd,

The Muse may give thee, but the Gods must guide:


Rev'rent I touch thee! but with honeft zeal;
To rouse the Watchmen of the public Weal,
To Virtue's work provoke the tardy Hall,
And goad the Prelate slumb'ring in his Stall.
Ye tinfel Infects! whom a Court maintains, 220
That counts your Beauties only by your Stains,


VER. 214. To all but Heav'n-directed hands] "The Citizen "(fays Plato, in his fifth book of Laws) who does no injury to any one, without queftion, merits our esteem. "He, who, not content with being barely juft him"felf, opposes the course of injuftice, by profecuting it be"fore the Magistrate, merits our esteem vaftly more. The firft difcharges the duty of a fingle Citizen; but the "other does the office of a body. But he whose zeal stops "not here, but proceeds to ASSIST THE MAGISTRATE IN PUNISHING, is the most valuable bleffing of Society. This "is the PERFECT CITIZEN, to whom we would adjudge "the prize of Virtue."


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VER. 219. And goad the Prelate flumb’ring in his Stall.] The good Eufebius, in his Evangelical Preparation, draws a long parallel between the Ox and the Christian Priesthood. Hence the dignified Clergy, out of mere humility, have ever fince called their thrones by the name of stalls. To which a great Prelate of Winchester, one W. Edinton, modeftly alluding, has rendered his name immortal by this ecclefiaftical aphorifm, who would otherwife have been forgotten; Canterbury is the higher rack, but Winchester is the better manger. By which, however, it appears that he was not one of those here condemned, who flumber in their falls. SCRIBL.

VER. 220, &c. Ye tinfel Infects! whom a Court maintain, -That counts your Beauties only by your Stains,-Spin all your Cobwebs] And again, to the fame purpose, in the Epifile to Dr. Arbuthnot,

Spin all

your Cobwebs o'er the Eye of Day! The MUSE's wing shall brush you all away:


"Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?
"Yet let me flap this bug with gilded wings,
"This painted child of Dirt, that flinks and ftings."

These (it has been objected) are Infects not of Nature's cre ating, but the Poet's, and therefore fuch compound images are to be condemned. One would think, by this, that mixed qualities troubled the fenfe, as much as mixed metaphors do the ftyle. But whoever thinks fo, is mistaken. The fault of mixed metaphors is, that they call the imagination from image to image, when it is the writer's purpose to fix it upon one. On the contrary, mixed qualities do their office rightly, and inform the understanding of what the Author would infinuate, that the moral infect is a more worthlefs creature than the phyfical, as he collects together, in one individual, divers bad or trifling qualities, which Nature had difperfed in many. And when, in fact, we fee them fo collected; as venom, sophistry, and infidioufnefs, in a Court-Butterfly, the giving it the bite of the bug, and the web of the spider, makes it a monster indeed, but not of the Poet's creating, but only of his naming.

VER. 220. Ye Infects-The MUSE's wing hall brush you all away:] This it did very effectually; and the memory of them had been now forgotten, had not the Poet's charity, for a while, protracted their miferable Being. There is now in his Library a complete collection of all the horrid Libels written and published against him;

"The tale reviv'd, the lye fo oft o'erthrown,
"Th' imputed trash, and dulness not his own;
"The morals blacken'd, when the writings 'fcape,
"The libell'd Perfon, and the pictur'd fhape."

These he had bound up in several volumes, according to their various fizes, from folios down to duodecimos; and to each of them hath affixed this motto out of the book of Job:

Behold, my defire is, that mine adversary should write a book. Surely I fhould take it upon my shoulder, and bind it as a croum to me. Ch. xxxi. ver. 35, 36.

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All his Grace preaches, all his Lordship fings, All that makes Saints of Queens, and Gods of Kings. 225

All, all but Truth, drops dead-born from the Prefs,

Like the last Gazette, or the last Address".

When black Ambition stains a public Cause, A Monarch's fword when mad Vain-glory draws, Not Waller's Wreath can hide the Nation's Scar, Nor Boileau turn the Feather to a Star. 231


After Ver. 227. in the MS.

Where's now the Star that lighted Charles to rife?
-With that which follow'd Julius to the Skies.
Angels, that watch'd the Royal Oak fo well,
How chanc'd ye nod, when lucklefs Sorel fell?
Hence, lying Miracles! reduc'd fo low
As to the regal touch, and papal-toe;
Hence haughty Edgar's title to the Main,
Britain's to France, and thine to India, Spain!

VER. 222. Cobwebs] Weak and flight sophistry against virtue and honour. Thin colours over vice, as unable to hide the light of Truth, as cobwebs to fhade the fun. P.

VER. 225. Gods of Kings.] When James the first had once befpeeched his Parliament, Bishop Williams Keeper of the Great Seal added-that, after his Majesty's DIVINUM ET IMMORTALE DICTUM, he would not dare mortale aliquid addere. On which, Wilson the Hiftorian obferves - This is not inferted to fhew the PREGNANCY and GENIUS of the man, but the temper of the times.

VER 228. When black Ambition, &c.] The cafe of Cromwell in the civil war of England; and (Ver. 229) of Louis XIV. in his conqueft of the Low Countries. P.

VER. 231. Nor Boileau turn the Feather to a Star.] See his Ode on Namur; where (to use his own words)" Il a fait un

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